02x08 - Joplin

[bunniefuu]

Whoo!

Whoa.

Red servant, yellow servant. Red servant--

I've always thought that if I wasn't born with extreme wealth, I would've earned it fairly easily as a world-class singer.

And now, I've decided to try and make the dream I do not need come true.

We want to be the first non-poor people to become famous for talent.

So we purchased the most famous musician in the world to come to Bellacourt and make a song with us.

Mr. Scott Joplin!

[both screaming]

♪ I've been having this vision ♪
♪ breaking out of these walls ♪
♪ bustin' out of this prison ♪
♪ either rise or you fall, bring out the body bags ♪
♪ I'm 'bout to k*ll 'em, deliver them ♪
♪ to the mortician ♪
♪ light 'em, light 'em up ♪

It's ragtime!

♪ I want the money, I want the fame ♪
♪ I want the whole world to know my name ♪
♪ this is mine, I got to get it ♪
♪ I got to get it, got, got to get it ♪
♪ Another Period ♪

Scott Joplin does not work for you.

He works for me. Himself.

Because he operates on a level that no one could fathom.

Soon, he'll be voting.

[piano chord]

He'll serve on a jury.

[piano chord]

Hell, one day, he'll even have his own bank account.

[ragtime piano music]

Jim Crow does not apply to the immortal.

Well, I like a man who's not afraid to toot his own horn, if you know what I mean.

I mean "dong" by horn.

I can flirt too. I'm just not good at words.

Ladies, I know he's hard to resist, but I am spoken for, so to speak.

Right, Brenda?

Is your wife from one of those countries where women don't have tongues?

Oh, she has a tongue.

[chuckling]

She is the princess of Armenia, and she is a star.

What does she do exactly?

Well, that's the thing.

Nobody knows.

But when I first met Brenda, she was a talentless beauty.

And now, she is a famous talentless beauty.

Joplin took her to the next level.

We want to go to the next level.

Will you please help us write a hit song?

Please?

I only have one condition.

It's that I retain full control of the final product.

No one can genius like a genius like me.

It's a deal.

Oh, yes.

[upbeat piano music]

[klezmer music]

♪ ♪

Hyman Goldberg, do you take Blanche the Servant to be your wife and green card provider?

I guess.

Blanche the Servant, do you understand that you have no say in this or any other ceremony for as long as you both shall live?

Then, I pronounce you married.

Well, I'm off to my honeymoon.

Don't I get to go?

No. I'm sorry. I just figured you had to work.

I'm off to the Poconos.

Everyone, I have a very exciting announcement.

You're shaving your mustache?

I don't know, Flobelle.

Are you shaving yours?

Now, the announcement, if everybody's done with their attempts at humor.

Today, at 4:00 eastern farmer time, I received a very special delivery of a new kind of... butter!

Oh, hooray, butter for butler.

Now, that was a good jest.

Now, this butter is unlike any you've ever seen.

Rich, thick, creamy, batch tumble churned, silky smooth.

Ready for... [funky music] ready for spreading.

Mr. Peepers.

Hmm?

Your wee-wee is making a tepee.

I've been having certain carnal thoughts as of late, but ever since that night in the stagecoach with Dodo, the slightest thing sends me into an erotic tizzy.

No matter.

So long as it does not affect my work, I shall just be strong.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

[ragtime piano music]

♪ ♪

[eerie music]

[funky music]

♪ ♪

[exhales]

♪ ♪

[groans]

[clears throat] Excuse me.

I suddenly crave a lower-half ice bath.

[ragtime piano music]

♪ ♪

So what do you think?

I don't really ever care about the not-singing part of a song.

Me neither.

But it'll get there once we add our lyrics.

Fine.

Okay.

Can you play the boring just music part again?

One, two, five, six.

both: ♪ Baked Alaska, Baked Alaska ♪
♪ Baked Alaska, Baked Alaska ♪
♪ It's Christmas pudding all topped with meringue ♪
♪ but it's just about my favorite thang ♪
♪ Bea likes it soft, and I like it hard ♪
♪ If you need to, use some cus-tard ♪

both: ♪ Baked Alaska, it's the treat that we want ♪
♪ Do it in the back and not in the front ♪

[scatting]

[off-key vocalizing]

[scatting]

♪ Alaska ♪

[both vocalizing off-key]

♪ Alaska ♪

[both vocalizing off-key]

[dog barking]

Shut the hell up, Cutie!

You're ruining my solo!

Our solo.

So what'd you think?

[stammers]

I mean-- sure.

Uh, I think I can do something with it.

I mean, I'm not just an entertainer.

I'm the entertainer.

[upbeat music]

♪ ♪

[panting]

♪ ♪

[groans]

[gasps]

My sheets are soaked.

♪ ♪

[lively instrumental music] _

Today's the day.

Joplin's team dropped off an advance pressing of our song, and I just know that "Baked Alaska" is going to sh**t us to stardom and into America's hearts.

I would like to take this opportunity to say goodbye to all of you.

Some of you I've never liked, although I've kept it to myself in the interest propriety.

You constantly tell me you hate me.

Some of you I wish I'd known better.

But mostly I've accepted you as a necessary part of my life, but I'll thank you to not ask me for any favors.

Garfield.

I cannot wait for the pink fog of fame to wash over me, and then I'll truly never die.

I can't wait to never die.

[Scott Joplin's "The Entertainer" playing]

Here it is.

[ragtime piano music]

♪ ♪

I thought we were supposed to be singing.

Hmm.

♪ ♪

[dog barking]

My voice sounds weird.

Idiot! That's not us.

That's Mayor Cutie!

[laughing]

Are you sure?

This dog sounds like it has a Jamaican accent.

Someone thought it would be a good idea to go solo and leave the rest of us in the dust.

[growling]

You selfish bitch.

You never loved me.

All you loved is yourself!

And chicken.

[growls]

["The Entertainer" playing]

[crying]

Will you stop playing that song?

♪ ♪

Lillian, why are the lights so low?

Do you have conjunctivitis?

I have conjunctivitis of the heart.

[dog barking]

I should've known better than to trust a fast-fingered ragman and a too-hot-for- her-own-good Chihuahua.

I'm just sad we don't get to play in the concert.

What concert?

Joplin's doing this song live with Cutie.

How could she betray us and steal the spotlight for herself?

That's what I was going to do to you.

Oh.

[crying] God damn it!

What? What happened?

Someone forgot to bring me my cold cocoa.

They probably gave it to Mayor Cutie, that four-pound whore!

You know what?

I will get the cocoa myself.

Beatrice, wait.

A rich person cooking.

They might think you're a witch.

Lillian, I will do anything for my family, including putting things in my bottom.

I'll be back with the cocoa.

Wait.

Don't worry, Lillian.

I won't put the cocoa in my bottom.

Well, at least there's that.

[soft music]

♪ ♪

Ooh.

♪ ♪

Oh, no.

I always do that.

♪ ♪

[gasps]

Oh, hi, Peepers.

[laughing] Neat dance.

Miss Beatrice, what are you doing down here?

Someone forgot the cold cocoa for our bedtime biscuits.

I shall find the culprit immediately.

Thank you.

Good night, Peepers.

Worry not, Miss naked Beatrice.

I shall ferret out whoever's responsible for this savagery.

It was I.

'Twas I who forgot the cold cocoa.

What is happening to me?

Why won't you leave me alone, devil's pole?

[groaning]

[weeping]

[upbeat music]

[clears throat]

Oh, hello, husband. How were the Poconos?

The mai tais were strong, and the klezmer white-hot.

I don't know what either of those things are.

So do you think that we might consummate soon?

I just would like to make this official.

[chuckles]

[stammering] Blanche, I want to, I really do.

I just-- it might be hard.

Because I'm not a man?

What? No.

I'm not a-- I'm not a h*m*.

I mean, if anything, I'm a pansexual.

Is it the company, then?

Oh, no.

No, to be honest, I kind of like it.

Well, what, then?

There's no easy way to say this, so I will just say it.

It's your pregnancy, Blanche.

It's repulsive to me, no offense.

I can't get over the idea that the baby's going to att*ck me from within with little hands and little teeth and--

[growling]

You understand, right?

Okay.

Oh, poor Blanche.

You know what?

I've got an idea. I can help.

A-ha. Yes.

Oh, no. Please.

No, no. Oh, my God.

Help! Help, help, help, help.

Help, help, help, help! Please!

[crying]

Peekaboo! I see you.

Now I don't.

It's a wonderful idea and a custom of my people.

Good, Blanche.

Okay. Spread.

And bed!

[exclaims]

Okay.

Yes. Yes!

[klezmer music]

Hello.

The doctor is in. Oh!

Ah, and the doctor is done.

Give her the eye contact.

Married! I am married.

Oh, I hate you!

Your mother's a whore. Oh, come on!

Excuse me, Hamish.

[dramatic music]

What the hell do you want?

I need you.

I need your help.

[laughing]

So you k*ll a man, that gets me arrested, and then you let me rot in jail and nearly get ex*cuted, and now you want my help?

That is essentially the circumstance, yes.

I can't say no to that face.

It's so clean.

What's the problem?

Well, I'm having... nighttime penile seepage.

Sleep sprays.

It's not a big deal at all. It happens to me all the time.

I use my dried sheets as doors.

They don't work very well. They're sheets.

But, Hamish, I'm having increasing carnal frustration.

I feel like a pubescent teenage boy, though I'm nearly thirty years old.

So you want what from me?

I want you to castrate me.

Here.

Let me take this out.

There it is.

Here, I brought you this.

Ice tongs. I don't know if they'll be useful.

No, no, no, no, no.

Do it quick.

No, no. Listen, man.

Even if I could-- and I want to-- I wouldn't.

It doesn't do any good.

If I cut it off, you'll still feel horny, and then there's nothing you could do about it.

It's called "phantom d*ck," and it's not as fun as it sounds.

Let me take you to the bordello this evening so you can dip your wick.

Problem solved.

[upbeat piano music]

♪ ♪

all: Hamish!

Hello, whores.

I am so happy to see you, but I'm very sorry, Hamish.

The shaved orangutan is at the veterinarian's.

I'm not here for me. I'm here for my friend Peeps here, who wants to clean his pipes.

Say hello!

Well, good evening, madam.

[laughing]

"Madam"!

"Well, good evening, Madam."

[laughing]

Well, go on.

Choose one there, Jeeves.

Don't worry.

You're not going to hurt their feelings.

What about Josephine?

You can call her "Richard" 'cause she has a d*ck.

Lovely.

Or this is Peggy, who has a wonderful knack for doing the old steamed clam.

You know, if it doesn't open, don't eat it.

This is Baby, 'cause she'll make you cry like one.

And, also, she just had one.

And this is Diana.

She's an advocate for sex workers' rights.

Yes, well, madam, may I choose you?

Me? No.

I'm not-- I'm the lady of the house.

That's what I like.

Okay.

[upbeat horn music]

The time has come for me to put aside my creative differences with Mayor Cutie and attend the concert.

After all, I'm her owner, so I should be entitled to some of the glory.

Ever since she got famous,

Mayor Cutie's really changed.

I heard she dyes her fur now.

Ever since that shyster Joplin arrived, I knew he and that little twat would be in cahoots to steal my thunder.

Our thunder.

[scoffs]

The point is, Joplin is a liar and a bum, and Mayor Cutie is a fame-seeking, egotistical, self-serving, pathetic old bitch who--

Mayor Cutie!

Mayor Cutie! It's me, Lillian!

Remember me?

Old Lil, your dear old gal?

♪ You look beautiful ♪

Mayor Cutie. Mr. Joplin. It's me!

Me, Lillian, the singer!

Hello? Mr. Joplin.

Enough! And now, I would like to introduce to you someone I believe in almost as much as I believe in myself.

The legend, Mayor Cutie.

[applause]

["The Entertainer" playing]

I'm her owner.

I took a zeppelin all the way to the Mexican state of Chihuahua to buy her from a breeder.

Shh.

I named her and then had her legally elected mayor of a small town in Rhode Island.

[applause]

[barking]

Arf, arf! Arf, arf!

[crowd booing]

Arf, arf!

Arf, arf!

Hey, get off the stage, you dummy.

Arf?

♪ ♪

[barking]

It's not her real hair.

I liked it.

Ooh.

Yes.

Very good.

[laughing] I see, I see.

You gonna keep your clothes on?

Well, to tell you the truth, madam, please.

I must confess to you it is--

Ooh, a confession. I'm a priest.

I have never done this before.

Not at all?

No. I mostly just dust.

Okay. You know what you can do?

You can put it in my hind quarters.

You know, the Baked Alaska.

Oh, I don't like the sound of that.

Well, listen.

All you got to do is, you take your little willy...

Yes?

And you point, thrust, go "pow, pow" until your d*ck pukes.

Madam, do you think it would be possible for you to be slightly less vulgar?

Perhaps you could affect a higher-class accent, or perhaps you could order me to buttle something.

Very funny.

[stammering]

Madam, no!

No!

I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.

I just-- I don't think I can do this.

Well, look.

Why don't you just try jerking it?

Jerking what?

Jerking off!

Jerking off! You never done that neither?

Well, I--

All you got to do is take your hand--

Yes?

Make it like a jelly pot--

Okay.

And then just jank it till it pops.

I see. Oh, it's rather like polishing a banister, isn't it?

Thank you, madam. You've been a very good friend.

That'll be a dime.

Oh, yes.

Ugh. What an idiot.

"Mr. Joplin, Mayor Cutie, it's me, Lillian!

Oh, I'm so desperate."

[crying] I'm so stupid.

[claws clicking on floor]

You.

You betrayed me.

You used me to get to Joplin and then left me on the side of the road like a dead hyena, and you're not even a singer.

[growling]

[dramatic music]

[demonic voice] You bitch!

[screaming]

♪ ♪

[grunting]

[screaming]

♪ ♪

Lillian, what are you doing?

She is our sister.

Now, I know she's made some mistakes before, but you don't k*ll your family.

It's one of the Ten Commanders.

Oh, my goodness. You're right.

Oh, what have I become?

Oh, Mayor Cutie, I'll never let a song get in between us again.

Isn't that right, Mayor Cutie?

Mayor Cutie? Mayor Cutie, say something!

Sing something!

Arf, arf! Anything.

Wake up!

[crying] She's dead.

No!

She's dead.

I k*lled our sister!

Oh, God, why?

Why couldn't it have been Hortense?

Oh, oh, oh. Don't-- don't sit there.

What?

Oh, actually, it's what she would've wanted.

[both crying]

[soft music]

♪ ♪

Mr. Peepers, what are you doing?

Quiet, boy.

Go on with your tasks.

♪ ♪

Yes, sir.

Churn that butter.

Lillian can't come to the phone right now.

Can the crap. Where's Cutie?

The president of France has invited her to bark at his birthday party.

She's dead.

Lillian k*lled her.

Another star... snuffed out too soon.

Never mind. Joplin doesn't need a partner.

Joplin is a comet.

Joplin is the solar system!

[dog barking]